


Why They Couldn't Film The Kiss In "Hunters"

by cruisedirector



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Canon, Episode: s04e15 Hunters, F/M, Kissing, Letters, Making Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-02-01
Updated: 1998-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-06 23:26:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruisedirector/pseuds/cruisedirector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the original ending of the episode originally titled "Letters From Home."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why They Couldn't Film The Kiss In "Hunters"

**Author's Note:**

> "Hunters" didn't originally end with Janeway and Chakotay having a lukewarm discussion of her failure to date other men in Mark's absence; it ended with Janeway kissing Chakotay, and got written out over the objections of Robert Beltran and the episode's author, Jeri Taylor. (If you saw UPN's season five promo slate where Janeway says, "So what will it be, Chakotay? Indulge my feelings, hold fast to protocol?" you will know exactly how it should have gone.) The following story was suggested by something Kate Mulgrew said in November of 1997, in a conversation where she explained how she had fought for J/C and been voted down by Rick Berman.

She looked up, but suddenly he was too close, this man who had been at her side for more than three years while Mark had become a memory. Or she was too close. There was no avoiding what was in his eyes, it had been in his eyes since he came into her ready room - since they'd gotten the messages, since he'd saved her life, since New Earth - since he'd been on her ship.

The first time she could remember touching him, she'd looked up to catch him staring at her with helpless pleasure. Not shy exactly, but vulnerable, afraid of her reaction. That had been a shock. She'd expected her tattooed first officer (the former rebel leader, a good-looking man by the standards of many humanoid cultures though not usually her own type) to take advantage of the numerous romantic possibilities on the ship. She never expected him to regard her as one of them.

It was obvious that Seska had eyes for him, and Torres had a crush on him, as well as many on her own crew. They sought him out, he was open to contact, interested in sharing his traditions and interests. She'd thought at first that only the pedestal of his position kept him from getting involved with someone - had she been he, it might have. But Chakotay had been out of Starfleet for a long time, and had clearly not been celibate in the Maquis. Maybe, she'd mused, Seska had hurt him so badly that he wanted to avoid similar entanglements and was using his rank as an excuse. Or maybe he just enjoyed the chase.

Or maybe he was waiting for someone who hadn't yet acknowledged him.

She knew some time before New Earth that his feelings for her were not merely platonic, and not simple attraction. That confused her - she'd dealt with crew crushes before, but this was something else. He was not the sort of man who had to fancy himself in love to accept being a subordinate, nor was he looking for someone to command him. Still, exploring her own emotions remained impossible. She told herself so, when his face began to creep into her dreams, then her waking fantasies. She thought she could separate lust from longing. It was only in the aftermath of the Borg - first Riley Frasier's collective and then Seven of Nine's companions, the two betrayals, when the pain he caused her burned deep through her - that she finally admitted to herself how she felt about her first officer. She never intended to let him know. Or if he suspected already, then she would never give him reason to believe. Though she couldn't help hoping, when she allowed herself to daydream about getting home, that if Mark were somehow not an issue...

As Mark suddenly was not an issue. She couldn't throw that barrier in her path as her only remaining shield from Chakotay. He was too close, she was too close, she couldn't stop the momentum.

Maybe their relationship would have been easier if she'd let this happen early on, as if some electromagnetic force pulled them together, faces moving close irresistibly, energy building like static about to discharge. She didn't think she would have stopped if she could. He saw that on her face, acknowledged it, just before his eyes closed. When they came together, she caught fire. It wasn't his fault - he wasn't pressuring her, was barely even pressing her lips with his own, passionate but cautious, nearly chaste. She shuddered, mouth trembling open against his. He started to break the kiss, but her hand found the back of his head and wove into his hair, gently, not pulling him to her, just holding him there. Just letting him know.

So he returned, the warmth of his lips burning as his mouth opened. Tongues crossing the barrier, heads tilting as his body shifted closer, pressing her belly and hip. A rush of flame surged at every point where they touched. The bulge in his groin swelled against her abdomen. Melting through to her pelvis, a dull ache as the blood vessels widened, tissues growing moist, tumescent like a new bud in the spring thaw. She moaned and parted her legs around his thigh.

He kissed her like he was starving - taking her lower lip between his teeth, sucking on her tongue, very gently but deliberate, as if he wanted to savor the taste before devouring the feast. Her lower body was twitching in time with his kisses as if a giant nerve connected her mouth with her labia, and her nipples, knotting into hard points which he hesitantly brushed with his thumbs and then rubbed more deliberately at her gasp of pleasure while his mouth trailed down her neck. She would leave a stain on his uniform if she kept straddling him like this, right in her ready room -

We can't, she was supposed to say, but the words would not come. "Not here," she managed to grate instead. She couldn't invite him to her quarters, she couldn't go to his either, nor his office, nowhere that was part of her ship, but it was all part of her ship...

"Holodeck?" he murmured practically into her mouth, the word hot with promise. She didn't manage to shake her head no, just looked at him from beneath lids she could barely keep open; he had to shut his own eyes to tear himself away from her. Chakotay turned, took a minute to compose himself, and walked straight out of her ready room without another word, his body hunched a little to hide his erection in the thick folds of his uniform. Not even one glance at her, as if he were afraid she would change her mind...or that he would not be able to leave if he looked again. When he had gone, she took several deep breaths and tried to calm herself. No use. The cool air did nothing to diminish the burning in her cheeks and the scalding waves rippling through her body. She walked around the ready room, hands pressed to her face. I am Captain Kathryn Janeway, she said to herself, but the words didn't help. I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the starship Voyager...and this is my first officer, Chakotay. She could still taste his mouth on hers, feel his body in her arms. Words could not erase that.

After three minutes of turning in circles, trying to make herself dizzy to justify the disorientation she was feeling, she left the room. Tuvok glanced at her as she entered the bridge; she turned it over to him without returning his gaze, then boarded the turbolift. You can't stop now, she told herself. No more excuses. The lift halted, the doors parted. She went to her quarters, took off her uniform. She wasn't going to risk the sort of confusion wearing it could create. She put on the blue dress he'd liked so much on New Earth, brushed her hair, and stood before the door.

It wasn't too late to back out. It wasn't too late to call him from there and tell him - what? That she had a headache? That she had work to do? That she panicked? He would understand. He wouldn't like it, but he would forgive her.

Maybe always.

She walked through the door, and took another lift to the holodeck.

He'd had enough time for a little preparation. Hadn't bothered with champagne or flowers, though there was a large fireplace on the far side of the cozy room, not too hot, just enough. Dark wooden wall panels and the entire floor was covered with something very soft, like fur over a mattress, with more furs and pillows piled around them. A carafe of water on the only piece of upright furniture, a table up against a wall. She crossed and poured herself a glass, downed it before she let herself look at him.

He was watching her, hands clenched at his sides, cock so hard that his uniform tented out in front of him despite the tight waistband. She thought, I could probably bring him off without touching his skin. The thought made her knees tremble. He saw, and moved towards her, taking her hands, drawing her away from the table toward the pile of pillows on the soft, soft floor. There were no words: after all this time, she found she didn't need any. The words were manifest in the room, in the air between them, in the unshed tears glittering in his eyes and hers.

One soft kiss of greeting and they were both groaning, clutching at each other. This was supposed to be for him, she tried to remind herself, but a red haze blurred her thoughts. His hands cupped her buttocks to press her against him, when she began to rock helplessly in her own hungry rhythm she was powerless to stop herself. He slowed for a moment and slid her down his leg to stand on her own power, reaching under her skirt, brushing his fingertips over her damp underwear. She gasped and parted her thighs further, holding onto his shoulder for support. He slipped his other arm around her and lowered her to the floor, pulling her panties off when she raised up to his fingers and, wriggling, assisted him. He didn't stop to remove his owwn pants, just unfastened them, and let her push them down out of the way while he pulled off the top of his uniform and then ran two fingers around and over the entrance to her burning sex.

She practically pulled him to her by his penis, the head taut and leaking, thick, a surprisingly bright shade of purple. Wet as she was, there was still a throbbing ache as he pressed inside. Long-dormant tissues stretched and angled to accomodate him. She clawed his back helplessly, heard his involuntary gasp, then the full-throated groan that followed. No wonder he felt so swollen, he was so close to coming, his movements rocking to hold back rather than thrusting to build momentum. His eyes were locked on hers, wide with surprise, as if he'd never done this before and didn't know what to expect. Not one word had passed between them since she entered the holodeck.

A tiny ripple of muscle as his scrotum contacted her anus, turning into a spasm, then her entire body thrashed as she contracted deep inside, crying out half in terror because she'd never come before so fast without any stroking and because it was so tight with him inside her and because of the ache and the strength of it, she dug her fingernails into his skin without meaning to. It went on and on, as she felt his muscles tense in discomfort and then release in pleasure, his hips surging with the spurts, voice loud and ecstatic in her hair.

She was sorry she'd made him come so quickly when he was trying so hard to hold back, but he didn't seem sorry at all. He held her as aftershocks quaked through her, causing her to buck against his weight beginning to relax on her. Her face was burning, and her chest, her armpits tickled with sweat. Something trickled down her cheek, perspiration or a tear, she couldn't tell, and didn't know whether it was hers or his. He groaned again, a rich, shuddering sound, which she answered in kind, clutching him to her as his arms tightened about her body. She pressed her thighs against his sides, legs in the air to hold him closer.

She was glad she hadn't known making love with him would be so overwhelming, because she would never have let it happen if she did. Now that she had, she would not trade the experience for anything she could think of. Not even to get home - home had shifted in the past twenty-four hours, was no longer where it had been. That had been the danger all along - it had almost happened on New Earth, but she'd pulled back somehow, using Mark as the beacon to light her way back. She could never do that again - she would never want to. Here they were. "Kathryn," Chakotay whispered, voice shaking with emotion. She knew what he was going to say next; she turned her head to kiss him, to cut the words off.

She'd experienced his taste vicariously, from a distance and not-quite-enough-distance sometimes. His scent could overwhelm her, make her mouth water in anticipation of this last sensual barrier. Before today she'd known most facets of what he looked like, not intimately but she'd seen him clad in little enough that she could hazard a good guess about the sizes and shapes of the parts she hadn't seen. And she knew his whole repertoire of sighs and snores and laughter from sharing a home with him on New Earth. Nothing was a real surprise about how he touched her, not the reverence and certainly not the intensity.

She could have made love with him again immediately, she was still wet and burning, but she knew that even if he was ready right away, he would need to talk first. That was the part that scared her - not what he would say, but how she would respond. They were going to be conspicuously absent if they didn't at least make an appearance at Neelix's gathering, but going to the dining room would require that they leave the holodeck, and that he change his clothes. She doubted he would let her go without some discussion of where they went from here. When he came up from the kiss to look at her, she closed her eyes. "Kathryn," he said again, almost reproachfully, and rolled with her, tucking her head under his chin for a minute before slipping his hands beneath her dress and tugging it over her head.

She didn't resist. Let him see what he wanted. She'd worn nothing underneath. Chakotay stripped off his own uniform, drenched with sweat, and rolled her onto her stomach, massaging from her shoulders down to her buttocks. She went limp for him, letting him stroke where he would, tickle as he pleased, as though she were a sculpture he was finishing. "Beautiful," he murmured once. She craned her neck back to look at him, felt his arm slip under her body as he pulled her up for a bruising kiss. Arched up to him, she felt him stir against her backside, not quite erect yet but getting close.

"We have to go to the party," she said hoarsely.

"Not yet." He lowered her back down, keeping her hips slightly in the air, sliding the arm he had around her lower. His fingers nudged her thighs apart. She was slick with her own fluids and his, she felt messy and undignified. It excited her, and the excitement brought fear.

"Please."

"Did I hurt you, before?"

If she said yes, he would have stopped pressuring her, but she couldn't bear to lie to him, not with him touching her so tenderly. "It's just...a little fast," she mumbled. He took his hands away and wrapped his arms around her, curling up. The full magnitude of what they'd done struck her. She couldn't tell anyone else, Tuvok wouldn't understand, Kes wasn't there anymore, there wasn't a single person on the crew to whom she could confide that she was in over her head: Chakotay was the only one she could talk to about it. They hadn't only become lovers these past minutes, they'd made it necessary to share more than their bodies. Tears slid down her cheeks, her breathing grew uneven.

"Tell me why you're crying," he whispered into her hair as he pulled one of the soft furs over them, even though he was slick with sweat against her. "Tell me what I can do."

"Nothing. There's already too much..." She rolled over so that she could put her arms around him, realizing that he probably thought he'd done something to upset her, when it was her own fault. Her own weakness. The feel of his damp body naked against her own made her ache again. There was no going back to before, impossible to pretend that this had never happened even if he would have permitted it. Their hands and legs were communicating even now, stroking one another, whispering the things she'd tried to stop him from saying. She would have disengaged herself then, but he kissed her as she shifted to sit up, and the kiss pulled her down.

They might not have another opportunity like this again. Maybe not for a long time, maybe not ever, they had the Hirogen to deal with, and the crew, so much to do for the rest, the constant risks, the way things changed...though this had not changed, not in all these months turning to years. She let him kiss her passionately, murmuring the words she'd tried to silence before, she flattened him against the soft floor with her own weight and ground into him with her hips until he was panting.

The fear was gone, replaced by something else - a feeling of transformation. He radiated joy, and his joy began to pacify her. If they died tomorrow, at least they would have shared this. If she lost him tomorrow, at least he would know, and she would be certain. When he repeated the words of love, she answered him aloud, surprised at her own voice.

"We have to go," she whispered again when her legs started to stiffen and he'd stopped hiccuping on every indrawn breath. He drew back to look at her face, so she tried to smile for him, though they were both red-cheeked and swollen around the eyes. His fingers came up to trace her damp cheekbones, trailing into her hair. "I'm sorry, Chakotay. This wasn't good timing."

"Yes, it was." He smiled back at her, eyes crinkling as the dimples defined his face. "We'll talk later?" It wasn't a question: there was insistence in his voice, and a promise. She nodded. Later it would have to be her quarters, or his. She needed to decide which. And what it all would mean. "Walk me to my quarters so I can change?" he asked, this time a real question, so she nodded.

Rolling, he rose to his feet and then extended a hand to help her up, keeping her close against him so that she felt no sense of being looked at, no need for modesty. He lifted her dress from the floor and put it over her head, helping her shake it down her arms and body. That gesture struck her as more intimate than had its removal. He stepped back to look at her.

"I've been wanting..." he started. And stopped, knowing she knew. Once again, no words. They dressed in silence, moved to the arch together. He saved the program.

The corridors were deserted; everyone who was not on duty was at the gathering. He took her hand as they boarded the lift, kept it while they walked together to his quarters. She wondered how long it would take Tuvok to notice if she spent the night there, how soon it might be before he said anything to her about it. If ever. The crew already gossipped; she'd heard them. Seven had inadvertently told her a great deal by asking a few typically tactless questions about the irrelevancy of it all. Then, she had been concerned; now, she had to swallow a smile.

"What?" Chakotay queried, glancing at her.

"Nothing." She kissed him once they got inside his door, hand on the side of his face, and followed to watch as he dressed. "This one," she requested, picking out one of his shirts. She wished they could skip the party, curl up on his bunk and sleep. But her comm badge chirped, and Neelix summoned them, the queen of the castle and her knight. Invaders near the door, the army on sentry duty. She slipped her arm through his and let him escort her through the fairytale.


End file.
